I see my dreams on deserted movie screens
In one of dozens of empty cinemas
My head contains, but only at night,
And all of them look about the same;
They are empty, and the reverie in them is too hard
For me to wrap my deepened, sleepin’ head around.
If there were a pill, I would take that pill
If the pill were one that gave my dreams
The wealth that yours seem to carry;
Instead I sit among the vacant chairs,
A stranger here myself.
This is not the waking way I know so well,
Where mirth is what I find in quiet crowds,
Their hums and whispers swelling like the seas might do,
Their thumbs clicking out words
In a silence only toddlers, dogs,
And those with the grandest of imaginations
Can hear – in short, synesthetes.
The singer wanted it so much, he said,
To see movies of his dreams.
What I would give to see or remember mine:
The drive-in
speaker box, slurring gravitas
At nervous, smooching teens,
The stereotypes about black folks
As the colored elephant in the room.
I can’t handle the truth
That it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird,
Oh, Mary, everybody gave me money,
So I wouldn’t kill myself – Merry Christmas!
That’s all I ask. Bring me your campy,
Your sappy, you’re gonna need Dramamine,
Which I would gladly take to make me dream.
I’ll take them.
I’ll take any sort of reverie.
